Brick
by SorryxSorry
Summary: She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly. Brucas oneshot songfic.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own One Tree Hill. And I don't own the song, either.

**Song used:** "Brick" by Ben Folds Five

**Pairing:** This was written as a Lucas/Brooke story, though you will notice that names are not used. Feel free to sub in different names, but be warned that its meant to be read as a Brucas fic.

**Summary**: This is an AU story, set sometime in the first season after Brooke tells Lucas she is pregnant. Brooke is not lying in this story; she is pregnant. The song and the story together explain their decision regarding the baby and how it is carried out. The decision about the baby is not explained in words, but hopefully you'll get the gist while reading. Let me be the first to say that this is NOT a happy story, not even close.

I know that sometimes when I read a song fic, I skip over the lyrics and only read the story. However, I beg you don't do that with this story. It gets quite jumpy at points, but the lyrics are what head this oneshot in a new direction. Without them you might be confused.

Also, I really suggest that readers download the song used. Its extremely beautiful, to a point where it manages to make me teary eyed. I think the story will have such a deeper meaning if you listen to the song.

Reviews are appreciated.

_6 AM, day after Christmas_

_I throw some clothes on in the dark_

The sound of the alarm clock disturbed the silence of the early morning, yet had no effect on him. He, who had been lying awake for hours on end, merely sat up straighter and rubbed his hands over his face, the stubble on his chin. The lack of sleep was evident on his face; dark shadows circled his light blue eyes and his skin seemed grey as the sky outside. Pushing himself from the perfectly made bed, he ambled to the closet and pulled out basic attire. Without the lights on he could barely see what he was putting on, but in the hours he had laid in the dark his eyes had become somewhat adjusted, so that he could tell the long-sleeved shirt was a solid dark color and the jeans were slightly faded.

_The smell of cold; car seat is freezing_

_The world is sleeping and I am numb_

He stepped out the door into the cold air. His breath was visible on the wind as he hurried to the car, his heart suddenly pounding again. Pushing a hand in the pocket of his old jacket, he pulled out a rusty car key and inserted it into the keyhole. The lock was momentarily frozen from the harsh weather; he had to use both hands to turn it completely. The door opened with a small click, sounding like a parade of sound in the eerie quiet. The world seemed to be at standstill. Christmas lights atop the rooftops of the houses lining the streets glowed faintly against the rising sun. The tranquility of the morning seemed haunting. If the world only knew how he felt. How he lacked any feeling at all. There had been an empty hole in the pit of his stomach since she had told him. And that hole had widened when she told him her decision.

_Up the stairs to her apartment_

_She is balled up on the couch_

He climbed the steps slowly, counting as he went, his heart beating as though death was awaiting him at the top. On the landing he turned right and tip-toed down the hall, doors with shiny golden numbers blurring by. He reached the second to last door on the left and cast a look outside the window. The sun had fully risen now, casting a dull yellow glow on the world outside. Turning back to number 213, he turned the knob, breathing a sigh of relief to discover it was unlocked. He entered quietly and scanned the room with his eyes. They fell upon a small brunette girl curled up on the couch, her dark eyes glistening and unfocused. At the sound of the door closing, she was shaken out of her stupor. Looking up at him, she attempted to smile, her dry lips cracking in the process. She rolled onto her back, staring down at her stomach, before sitting up. He gazed at her, taking in her every movement, every painful look in her eyes. Holding out his hand, he pulled her to her feet, swallowing back a lump in his throat as he did.

_Her mom and dad went down to Charlotte_

_They're not home to find us out_

Her parents were always gone. She always missed them. She always knew they didn't miss her. She always knew they didn't love her. And for the first time in her life, she was glad they weren't around. She followed him down the steps to the parking lot, her head pounding and her mind spinning. She was afraid of them knowing; she supposed that's why she chose this route. The _thing_ was less frightening than their reaction, even though thoughts of the _thing_ made her want to curl up in a ball and die. She couldn't stand to think of the disappointment in their faces as they stared at their only daughter. They didn't love her, that she knew, but for them to hate her? It was beyond her worst nightmare. So she sat in the car, not quite ready to face what was coming towards her, but confident that it was the only way. As his hand reached out and grabbed hers, she gave him a small squeeze.

_And we drive_

_Now that I've found someone_

_I'm feeling more alone_

_Than I ever have before_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

_Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

_They call her name at 7:30_

_I pace around the parking lot_

She stood at the sound of her name and followed a nurse in a white coat to the door. In the doorway she turned, giving him a knowing look. He forced a smile back. As her small frame disappeared down the hallway he stood up. He glanced around at the room. It was quite empty save for a young girl and her mother. He felt awkward with them, as though he were intruding upon something that should be kept private. He hurried outside, the cold air biting his nose and ears while the sunlight warmed the rest of his face. The ground beneath him was light and cracked; the pavement hadn't been done in years. He kicked a small rock across the ground, the rubber soles of his shoes scuffing the pavement. He followed the rock toward his own car and leaned inside. A large bag with unwrapped gifts sat in the backseat, along with a few dollars cash. He pulled them out and slammed the door, his eyes filling once again.

_Then I walk down to buy her flowers_

_And sell some gifts that I got_

The flower shop was small and quiet, but beautiful all the same. He browsed through the aisles, taking in the wonderful scent of freshly cut roses. The price tags on these were high, much higher than he could afford. He continued to the next aisle, containing beautiful yellow and pink flowers he couldn't identify. The flowers smiled happily at him against the coldness in the world, the sadness in his heart. He knew they would be perfect. They would make her smile. Grabbing a small bouquet, he approached the counter. A kind, elderly woman stood there. She gave him a cheery greeting as he set the flowers on the table. As he handed her the money for the flowers, he held up a beautiful golden watch. She eyed it carefully, understanding what he was asking. Reaching for her wallet, she produced a much larger sum of money than he had and placed it in his hand. He handed her the watch and picked up the flowers before giving her a thankful smile. He walked out into the cold air once more, holding the beautiful arrangement of color in his right hand and considerably lighter bag of gifts in his left.

_Can't you see?_

_It's not me you're dying for_

_And she's feeling more alone_

_Than she ever has before_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

_Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere_

_She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly_

_As weeks went by_

_It showed that she was not fine_

Three weeks. It had been 21 days since the event and she had hardly picked up the phone. He had dropped her off in the early afternoon that day. She had told him that she would be fine, thanked him for the flowers, and asked him to leave. He had called her the following morning; she had answered sounding exhausted and irritated and had hung up only moments later. He had called her three times after that, each time reaching her cheery voicemail greeting before placing the phone back in the receiver. Now, three weeks later, he found himself dialing her number again. Though it had been quite some time since he'd punched the numbers in the phone his fingers seemed to work themselves from memory. After four rings she picked up. Without waiting for him to speak she said, as bluntly as she could, that she and her parents would be at his house in ten minutes. He heard a small click and then the familiar sound of a dial tone.

_They told me, "Son, it's time to tell the truth"_

_And she broke down_

_And I broke down_

'_Cause I was tired of lying_

When they stepped into his kitchen he could sense something was wrong. She was staring at her feet, her hair noticeably shorter than it had been the last time he'd seen her. Her mother had tears in her eyes, while her father looked stone-faced and angry. He beckoned them to the table, moving a few old newspapers and a half-melted candle out of the way. He took his seat next to her, her parents across the table from them. The room was suddenly tense, quiet. And he knew, from the moment her father opened his mouth, that they knew. And next to him she let out a muffled sob, placing her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. He felt the tears welling in his eyes as he spoke, as he explained everything they had been so keen on keeping a secret. And as he spoke, as the tears streamed down his pale cheeks, he felt as if a weight were being lifted off his shoulders. And he knew she felt it too.

_Driving back to her apartment_

_For the moment we're alone_

_She's alone_

_And I'm alone_

He had offered to drive her home. They sat in silence, not wanting to speak about what had just occurred, not even looking at each other. They were finally alone, just the two of them, for the first time in days. And rather than feeling safe, rather than feeling comfortable and welcome, it felt cold and tense. Because even though they sat side by side on the distressed black leather seats, they couldn't be more isolated. They would never be the same people, would never see the other in the same light. They had been changed that day. They had gone from fun-loving teenagers to cold-hearted adults. The spark would never be the same, when they held each other it wouldn't be as comfortable. They weren't the same anymore. They weren't different, separate. They were completely alone.

_And now I know it_

And now they knew it.


End file.
